


The Dead Horse Shanty

by Elucubrations



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Alternate Universe - Shipwrecked, Homophobia, M/M, no clear relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 20:52:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4236210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elucubrations/pseuds/Elucubrations
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Oh, poor old man, your horse will die, we'll drop him down to the depths of the sea. We'll send him down with a long, long roll, where the sharks will have his body and the devil have his soul." Nezumi, pirate ship cabin boy, is unprepared for the addition of a hostage onto his to-do list. He is even less prepared for the raging storm that will maroon them on an island together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my page at fanfiction.net! https://www.fanfiction.net/~tiichan17

Nezumi sweated as he scrubbed the deck under the blazing sun. His bare back was burning; he could feel it, but it was just too hot to put his shirt back on. He thought with bitterness of the rest of the crew who, though admittedly having just finished a full-on fight in the middle of the day, were now cheerfully looting the shady hold of the merchant's galley they'd boarded.

It had been the first mate who'd spotted it off to starboard, and her guttural shout of excitement had roused the entire crew into a raging bloodlust. Nezumi had just rolled his eyes and fetched a bucket of soapy water to scrub the deck while the crew's filthy boots were gone. He'd nearly finished now, barely three square feet left to scrub as he heard his shipmates clamber back on board, laden down with loot and singing The Dead Horse Shanty at the top of their lungs. Nezumi winced as he heard them leave undoubtedly bloody bootprints all over his hard work. He didn't care how many chests of gold, silver, gems and other treasures Nezumi could barely imagine they were bringing on board: his back was worth much more and it wasn't like he'd ever see any of it anyway. Being a cabin boy really had very few perks, but he supposed he could only be grateful the crew hadn't thrown his infant self to the sharks after murdering his parents.

Nezumi turned to see the captain swagger onto his ship and raised an eyebrow when he leaned back over the galley wall to drag someone after him by the hair.

Nezumi thought the captive was an old man at first – understandable, taking into account the snow-white hair that was gripped in the iron fist of his captain. However, when the captain tossed him violently onto the deck (and Nezumi's bucket of water, too), he realised it was in fact a boy around his own age.

The captain sneered down at Nezumi fondly. "This 'ere one's a prisoner, and you're to keep him kindly, boy. He's the Duke of Westminster's son," he growled meaningfully.

Light dawned upon Nezumi's puzzlement. Hostage.

"Aye, cap'n."

He righted his now empty bucket and hoisted the boy up by his armpits. He felt like a corpse, he was so limp, and his face wasn't much livelier. Nezumi rolled his eyes at the obvious trauma in his eyes. It was a weakling's plight, and Neuzmi hated weaklings.

"Stand on your bloody feet, won't you?" he hissed in impatience. The boy didn't appear to have heard him, so he huffed and flung the kid over his shoulder. He nearly lost his footing on the steps down to the hold, but managed not to drop his charge until he reached the hostage cabin, the only one besides the captain's that had a lock. It was furnished far more richly than Nezumi's own, with heavy blankets, clean sheets and even a rug. Nezumi dropped the boy unceremoniously onto the mattress and left to finish swabbing the deck, locking the door behind him. He happily forgot about the hostage until evening, when the Mate aimed a kick at his ribs for not feeding him. The kick missed, of course, but Nezumi's pride was injured nonetheless.

It was with a grudging demeanour that Nezumi unlocked the cabin door and dumped the plate of stew on the dressing table. Even his exaggeratedly foul mood was lost on the prisoner, however. He remained limp on the bed, exactly where Nezumi had thrown him hours earlier.

"Oi," Nezumi said, jabbing him in the back. "Bloody wake up and eat something, you lazy git." When he got no response he forcefully flipped the boy over to hiss into his face, "The cap'n will throw me to the sharks if this plate ain't emptied, so if you think I won't force-feed you, you're wrong."

The boy blinked, the first reaction Nezumi had seen from him. Taking it as a good sign, Nezumi brought the plate over to the bed and scooped up a spoonful of stew.

"Come on, you cunt," he encouraged, holding the spoon to the boy's mouth. "It's barely hot by now."

There came no sign that he'd been heard.

His infamously limited patience running dry, Nezumi gripped the prisoner's chin and forced his mouth to open for the spoon. This, finally, got him a reaction. The boy began to struggle violently against his grasp, trying in vain to turn his head away. His knee slammed into Nezumi's side, throwing him off balance and sending the plate of stew cascading onto bed and boy alike.

Nezumi gaped for a moment before he flung the spoon violently onto the floor.

"Well I suppose it's fucking emptied now, ain't it?" he spat. Furious, he stormed from the room, slamming and locking the door with much more force than necessary. It was only hours later that he realised it was he who would have to clean up the mess in the room so, not wanting to risk the captain or mate checking in to find the squalor, he gathered a pail of water, a mop and a cloth and thumped grumpily back down.

When he unlocked the door, he found the boy animate and licking stew off his hands. He looked up guiltily as Nezumi walked in, frozen as if caught doing something he shouldn't.

Nezumi only raised an eyebrow. "Hungry after all, were we? Well too sodding bad. You waste food, you don't eat, them's the rules on ship."

The boy sniffed, looking shamefaced. Nezumi plonked the bucket onto the floor and began to mop up the stew that had splashed onto the wood. The rug was unsalvageable, but if he turned it over he reckoned no one would notice.

It was only as he motioned for the prisoner to get off the bed so he could remove the sheets that the boy opened his mouth. "Sorry," he said.

Nezumi blinked. "What now?"

"Sorry."

He was perplexed. "For what? Kneeing me in the gut? I've had worse."

The boy reddened. "Well, that as well. But mainly for making a mess that you have clean up."

Nezumi was astounded. "Hey, ain't you a duke's son?" he asked.

He nodded. "The Duke of Westminster."

"Aye, I don't care. My point is, I'm a cabin boy. That's a servant."

"...yes?"

"So why're you apologising? I thought you gentry treated your servants like horseshit!"

The boy blinked in apparent shock. "Of course not! You're a person just like me, aren't you?"

There was a moment of silence before Nezumi burst into peals of laughter.

"What's so funny?" the boy cried.

"A person just like you?!" Nezumi spluttered. "You have got to be joking!"

"I'm not!"

Still chuckling, Nezumi looked the boy dead in the eye as he gathered up the filthy sheets. "We are nothing alike, you and me. If you think so then you can't be long for this world, boy, that much stupidity'll kill you."

The boy frowned. "Don't call me 'boy'," he said haughtily.

"Why? You are a boy."

"Yes, but so are you."

"Am not."

"Are too. How old are you?"

Nezumi shrugged. "Dunno."

"You don't know?"

"Nah, how would I? I can't remember what day I was born."

"Don't your parents?"

"My parents be dead, _boy_."

The boy blinked. "Oh. I'm sorry."

"Don't be, I hardly care anymore. How could you even think I had parents, you think I'd be on a pirate ship if so?"

Looking very uncomfortable, the boy shrugged. "Well, there was that woman. I figured she had to be someone's mother, and you're the only person young enough."

"'That woman'? You mean the Mate?"

"She's first mate?!"

"Sure she is. And why she got to be someone's mother anyway?"

"Well, I couldn't see why she'd be on board otherwise..." The boy trailed off as Nezumi snorted.

"Pah! You think just 'cause your posh navy thinks women can't man a ship it means they can't? The Mate's the best fighter we got, apart from Cap'n, though I'll wager most of it is pansies like you underestimating her." He snorted again. "Lord, and you call us the rabble!"

The boy looked suitably ashamed and Nezumi turned to get new sheets out of the cupboard. As he smoothed them over the bed, the boy spoke up again.

"What's your name?" he asked.

Nezumi paused for a second, then went back to his work. "Why do you want to know?"

"You're to look after me, aren't you? Shouldn't I know your name?"

"I'm not your fucking nanny," Nezumi said, straightening up and cracking his back. "You want one of those, you may as well fling yourself overboard. I'm sure the mermaids'll take care of you."

The boy frowned. "That's rude. And foul. You shouldn't use such language."

"Who says?"

"God."

"Since when does God say you shouldn't use words like 'fuck' and 'cunt'? Which bit of the Bible was that?"

The boy opened his mouth, but struggled for a moment before he thought of a retort. "It's ungentlemanly," he proclaimed.

"I look like a gentleman to you?"

"No. But I still want to know your name."

"Why's it important?"

"A name is who you are."

"No," Nezumi told him. " _I'm_ who I am. My name don't change that."

He left the room and went to bed.

* * *

He woke at the crack of dawn the next day and scrambled down to the cook's galley to grab some gruel while it was still hot. Then, remembering he had an extra mouth to feed, he wheedled another one out of the burly man.

Walking into the hostage cabin, he was surprised to find it still smelled of stew. He thought he'd cleaned it well enough the night before; what was still stinking the place out? He looked to the prisoner (who was somehow still asleep) and found his answer.

"Oi!" he roared. The boy shot upright. "Why in Lord's name are you sleeping in that filthy shite?!"

The boy's clothes were still crusted with congealed stew; Nezumi had forgotten about them.

Still breathing rapidly from the fright, the boy stammered, "You didn't say anything, so I just..."

Nezumi rolled his eyes. "Lawd. I'm not all-powerful, I can't remember everything! Ah well, chuck 'em here now then, I'll have them back to you by mid-morning."

The boy blinked. "What?"

Nezumi sighed. "I _said_ –"

"Yes, I heard you," the boy interrupted, "but I don't have any other clothes!"

"So?" Nezumi was flummoxed.

"So I'll be naked!"

"And? It's not too cold."

"It's not the cold that bothers me!"

"Then what? No one'll see, if that's what's got your knickers in a twist."

"You will!"

"Lord, you're a piece of work," Nezumi huffed. "I'll turn my back, how's that?"

"No, I don't want to sit here naked for hours on end! I want some other clothes!" the boy insisted primly.

"Not half demanding, are we?!" Nezumi yelled back, losing his rag. He marched over to the boy. "So help me, you whippersnapper, if you won't get out of those clothes yourself _I'll_ tear them off you!"

He grabbed the hem of his shirt.

"No!" the boy howled in protest, thumping his chest hard.

"Oi, stop flailing, or the cap'n will come down and flay us both alive," Nezumi hissed at him, abandoning the shirt to grab the boy's wrists. He tripped, and they both went crashing painfully to the floor.

Gathering his bearings in a millisecond, Nezumi pinned the boy beneath him with two well-placed knees and ripped his shirt over his head.

"Huh? The hell is that?"

The boy was now blushing deeply and looked close to tears. There was a dark, twisting mark snaking around his neck and chest, deep red in colour. At first, Nezumi thought it was a tattoo. A longer look told him it was a scar.

"You going to tell me how that happened, or do I have to ask?" Nezumi asked bluntly.

The boy bit his lip. "There was an accident when I was a child," he whispered. "I got snared in a whip. It half-strangled me."

Nezumi looked at the scar more closely and traced it absent-mindedly with his thumb. The boy shuddered and Nezumi remembered himself. He clambered off his charge.

"Well," he said breezily, "I've seen it now, you can't hide it no more. So give me the rest of your clothes and let's have done with it."

"No," the boy said stubbornly. "I still don't want to be undressed in front of a complete stranger."

Nezumi sighed. "Is this about the name thing again? I'll tell you if you're that uptight about it."

"It's not. I want another set of clothes."

Nezumi gave up. "Fine. I'll fetch you my others. Didn't realise you could be such a pig-headed bastard."

When he came back with his alternate set of clothing, the boy had polished off the gruel.

"Hungry still?" he commented.

The boy shrugged. "I'm used to eating more."

Nezumi laughed and tossed the clothes at him. The prisoner made him turn around as he changed, which Nezumi found nonsensical but did nonetheless, and when he was finished he handed the dirty clothes and polished plate to Nezumi.

"Thank you," he said clearly.

Nezumi just blinked.

"The correct response is "you're welcome"."

"You're not, though. You're a hostage. And hard work."

"You're still supposed to say it."

"Why?"

"It's polite."

"Aye, and I'm not."

The boy sighed. "I know." he cleared his throat. "My name's Shion, by the way."

Nezumi's brow furrowed. "Why are you telling me that all of a sudden?"

"I thought if I told you mine, you'd tell me yours," the boy said coyly.

Nezumi rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'm Nezumi."

"Rat?"

"That's what it means. Does that make me a rat to you?"

"What?"

"You said a name is who you are." He smirked.

Shion opened his mouth, then shut it again. Nezumi turned on his heel and went to wash the stew-covered clothes. They took longer to dry than he'd guessed; the sun had retreated behind the clouds and though there was a stiff breeze blowing, the sun had passed its zenith by the time Nezumi made his way back down to the hostage cabin. He was reaching for the door handle when it suddenly opened in his face, and if his reflexes had been any less sharp he would have been awarded with a broken nose.

The captain marched out of the cabin, barely sparing an eye for Nezumi, who ducked his head to avoid drawing attention. He scuttled inside before the door swung closed.

Shion looked up at his entry and hurriedly wiped at his eyes. Nezumi raised an eyebrow.

"So sorry to see the cap'n go?" he quipped.

Shion didn't appear to understand. "What? Oh, no, quite the opposite. I can't stand him."

Nezumi rolled his eyes but decided to drop it. "So," he asked instead, "what did he want, then?"

Shion looked at him with an inscrutable question in his eyes but answered after a moment. "They've sent a message to my father."

"Ah, the ransom note."

"Yes. He says..." Shion trailed off, twisting his hands painfully around each other.

"He says what?" Nezumi prompted, curious.

"He says that if the demands aren't met within a fortnight, he'll weigh anchor at the next port and..." he cleared his throat, "give me to a brothel."

Nezumi nodded. It wasn't an uncommon threat of the captain's, but so far he'd only been obliged to make good on his word twice.

"Doesn't that shock you?" Shion asked him.

"Not really," Nezumi said, shrugging. "Could be worse."

"How could it possibly be worse?!"

"He could make you walk the plank. He could hang you from the crow's nest. He could flay you and make boots out of your hide."

Shion had turned grey. "I think I'd prefer death to a brothel," he murmured.

Nezumi's eyebrows shot up his forehead. "What? Why?!"

Shion gazed at him, incredulous. "It would be humiliating!"

"And death wouldn't?"

"It would be the more honourable option."

Nezumi snorted. "Bullshit! I've seen more deaths than I can count. Ain't nothing honourable about it. You know what dying people do? Shit themselves. Hanged men turn black. Their tongues go purple and swell up massive, so they can't even fit inside their mouths anymore. Drowned men go grey and inflate like balloons."

"Stop!" Shion cried. His face was green. "You're turning my stomach!"

"My point stands," Nezumi said. "Death is never honourable. What's honourable is to go on living, as long as you can, by any means must."

Shion glared at him. "You're wrong," he said. His voice lacked conviction."

"Am I indeed? It's a good thing your father'll pay the ransom then, isn't it? We'll never have to find out." He threw the clean clothes at Shion's head. "Get changed. And I don't want no pussy-footing around being a blushing maiden. Strip and give me my clothes back."

Shion still made him turn around.


	2. Chapter 2

Days passed and Shion's fortnight deadline neared. For once, Nezumi couldn't say whether the captain was serious about his brothel threat or not. He would just have to wait and see. He supposed he'd be a little sorry to see Shion go; after he'd snapped out of that ridiculous shock-induced coma he'd actually proven himself to be quite spirited in his own, stupid way. He was an idiot, of course, but then most people were, in Nezumi's view.

Shion had either forgotten about the threat (unlikely, Nezumi thought) or was hiding his fear very well. Nezumi supposed he was due some grudging admiration for that; brothels were nasty places, especially in the port they were headed to. Shion had been eating less, though, despite Nezumi's torments about his girly frame, and had therefore become to look a little worn around the edges.

Nezumi shook his head forcefully and started scrubbing the deck again. It was no good wandering off down Moron Boulevard when there was work to be done.

* * *

Two days before they were to weigh anchor in port, a storm hit. Nezumi knew it was coming from the moment he woke up to a blood red sky. He smiled. He wouldn't have to swab the deck today.

The smile vanished at approximately midday when he saw the storm clouds coming. They were monstrous, roiling creatures, a vengeful purple. Nezumi thought they looked like a bruise. Then he thought, _Well. We're fucked._

He closed his eyes and refused to think about it.

* * *

It was five o' clock when it finally hit, though from the light it looked around nine. That was the least of Nezumi's worries, though, as the wind screamed at the ship, tearing down the sails, flinging them and the screaming sailor who had been trying to take them down into the churning waves.

Nezumi looked around him, clinging desperately to the handrail. Some crewmates were letting down the lifeboat, the fools. They wouldn't survive a second in that leaking wreck, to say nothing of if the captain discovered them.

A roar from behind notified him of the occurrence of exactly that. The sailors scattered, terrified, as the captain drew his cutlass.

" _Deserters?!"_ he bellowed, " _On my ship?! I'll 'ave the 'ands off the lot o' ye!_ "

Those were hit last words before he was blown off balance and tumbled, still screaming, into the sea.

Deciding to take his chances with the lifeboat, Nezumi scrambled for it. They were all clambering in, maybe he could slip in under the guise of having been there all along. His feet were stopped in their tracks, however, by a tiny, traitorous thought that whispered in his ear, " _Shion_."

He was still in the locked cabin.

He'd surely be drowned.

 _We'll all surely be drowned at this rate_ , Nezumi scolded the thought irritably. It was no use sacrificing himself for one idiotic weed.

Nezumi cursed violently and fought his way below decks. There was an almighty thudding coming from Shion's door, and when Nezumi wrenched it open, he was nearly hit square in the face by a stool.

" _Nezumi_!" Shion cried, and instead he was hit squarely in the chest by an armful of panicky, sobbing boy. "I thought you'd left me," he hiccuped into Nezumi's shoulder, "I thought you'd all left me here to drown."

"Come _on_ , you airhead!" Nezumi snapped, dragging him on deck by the wrist.

The lifeboat was gone.

" _Fuck_." Nezumi was buffeted by a sudden gust of wind and, too tired to fight it, he let it knock him onto his arse, sending all the breath out of him in a whoosh to be snatched up by the gale.

This was it.

They were done for.

He hoped Davy Jones was feeling merciful.

"Nezumi! Over here, quick!"

He turned, startled, to see Shion struggling to get two barrels untied from the shipside. Nezumi blinked stupidly until Shion yelled again, "Nezumi, come on! We have to hurry!"

He jumped up and drew his knife, slicing through the ropes easily.

"Get in!" Shion yelled over the howling wind.

"We'll drown!" Nezumi screamed back.

"We'll drown anyway, now get _in_!"

Nezumi got in and surrendered himself to the storm as Shion rolled him overboard. It was a rushing, spinning, _freezing cold_ hell until it all went black.

* * *

Nezumi woke gradually, drifting in and out of consciousness for what felt like years before he found the strength to prise his eyelids open. When he did finally manage, however, he found himself blinded by the sun. Nezumi groaned and lifted a ten-tonne arm to cover his eyes.

His head was pounding hotly, sending constant waves of pain through his brain. His eyes felt gritty and painful – it burned even to blink – and his lips and skin were cracked and seeping. He had never felt so unhappy in all his life.

Once his eyes had adjusted, Nezumi peered cautiously at his surroundings. He was lying beached on a stretch of sand, the waves having long since abandoned him with the turn of the tide. His barrel was nowhere to be seen, and directly before him was a relatively thick grove of trees. Nezumi, even half-senseless from exhaustion and heat stroke, knew that if he stayed out in this sun for much longer it would finish what the ocean had started. He started painfully dragging himself towards the shade.

It seemed to take hours and hours of long, hard work punctuated by short, gasping breaks, but eventually Nezumi was out of the sun and able to let himself pass out once again. Upon waking, he realised the sun was setting. He must have been unconscious for hours, he realised. He felt more alive, at least. Still terrible, but alive.

Immediately after this thought came another, less comforting one.

 _Shion_.

Nezumi grimaced, braced himself against a tree and heaved himself upright. He had to look for the boy. Chances were they had been washed up on the same island, and (providing the weaker boy had survived the ordeal in the first place) if Nezumi allowed Shion to remain exposed for much longer he would surely die.

He didn't have to walk very far to find him. Shion's hair was only a shade lighter than the sand and it caught the burning tongues of light that the setting sun cast over the island. His legs were already being tugged on by the advancing tide and it was a good thing Nezumi had come when he had because Shion was face down in the sand and an hour more would have meant him drowning.

Stumbling over as fast as his buckling legs could carry him, Nezumi fell to his knees beside Shion. He used all his remaining strength to flip the water-logged boy over and drag him out of the tide's reach. Only then did he dare to check his breathing with an ear pressed to his chest.

At first he couldn't hear anything and his chest constricted to the point where he could barely breathe himself, but then he heard the faint, slow _thud thud_ of Shion's heart and a moment later the scratchy rasp of his inhale. It was far, far too long before Shion exhaled and though it was ridiculous, Nezumi truly believed he could hear the heartbeat slowing.

Breathing deeply to keep the nausea of exhaustion at bay, Nezumi sat upright and opened Shion's mouth gently. Holding his nostrils closed, he leaned over and sealed his mouth over the boy's, pushing air steadily into his lungs. He breathed for Shion again, and again, and again. It seemed to go on forever before Shion began to choke and convulse violently in the sand, trying to expel the water from his lungs. Nezumi swiftly pulled him upright to help him hack it all up.

Gasping and coughing, Shion turned to him with wide eyes. "Nezumi?" he whispered, in a voice so hoarse it was barely there.

"Come on," was all Nezumi said to him. "We need to find shelter and start a fire if we don't want to freeze."

Shion nodded, then shook his head, looking pained. "I can't, Nezumi, I can't get up, I feel so sick..."

Nezumi hauled him to his feet, supporting him as he swayed. "Well, I can't carry you, you cunt, so you'd better start feeling better fast."

They staggered off in the direction of the thicket. Once they finally reached it, Shion fell out of Nezumi's slackened grasp and vomited the salty contents of his stomach onto the sand. Exhausted, he flopped onto his back in the sand, narrowly missing the mess.

"Nezumi..." he whispered, words trailing off into an intelligible mumble. Nezumi strained to make any sense of them, but the effort was too much for him; he began to feel dizzy once more.

"No, no, come on," he groaned. "We have to find shelter..."

Shion shook his head weakly. "Later," he mumbled.

"Now," Nezumi told him, though even as his mind formed the word he knew that Shion was nowhere near strong enough to saunter off in an aimless search for shelter. He sighed deeply and set off on his own.

He found the cave in a mere hour. To be truthful, it wasn't so much a cave as a hollow in the wall of the cliff, but it was dry and had space enough for two. It was all Nezumi could do to stop himself from curling up inside and going to sleep immediately, but what little morals of his were left forced him to go back to where Shion was still lying. The time it took to get the boy to the cave felt like far, far longer than the time it had taken to find it in the first place, and Nezumi almost cried with relief when they were finally able to fall down into the sand and succumb to exhaustion.

He woke hours later only for his heart to be startled into his throat by the very large, very red, very _close_ eyes that were staring at him. He bolted upright and smacked the back of his head on the rock above him.

" _Shit_!" he cried out in pain, falling back to the ground and curling up, nursing his screaming skull.

"Are you alright?" Shion asked, pawing at him concernedly.

"Were you watching me while I slept?!" Nezumi asked him angrily, slapping his hands away. "That's beyond disturbing!"

"It was only for a little bit! I didn't want to disturb you by getting up!"

"Did you have to _stare_ at me? Was there nowhere else for you to look, you twat?"

"Don't call me that, I was being considerate!"

"Considerate, my arse. Well, nothing for it now." Nezumi sighed and sat up, gingerly rubbing his sandy, throbbing head. "I need to get out of here; the only thing I can smell is you, it's like being blind!"

Shion looked injured. "How so? That isn't fair."

"Is too. 'S like only being able to see one colour. Fat lot of good that'll do you."

Shion obviously didn't understand, but he let Nezumi crawl over his legs towards the mouth of the cave anyway. Breaking out of the fuggy, sweaty, salty soup that was the air in the hollow was like surfacing after diving for pearls. The surface had never been very far up, but inhaling the tangy, delicate air felt like all the riches Nezumi would ever need.

"See?" he called back to Shion. "It's like my eyes have been opened now!"

Shion poked his head out of the hollow. "I don't smell anything much," he said.

"That's because you're stupid. Come on, let's find food. And water" Nezumi stood and stretched his aching muscles.

"Wouldn't it be a better idea if one of us looked for food and the other dug a fire pit or something?" Shion suggsted. "There's no use getting food if we can't cook it."

Nezumi stared at him. "Oh, my apologies, milord, I didn't realise you were actually a simpleton."

Shion blinked. "What prompted you to say that" he cried, injured.

"We don't have any weapons. That rules out killing anything for food, which means chances are we won't need a fire pit to cook it. It also rules out foraging alone. You know what's out there? Because I sure as hell don't."

Shion looked chastened. "You're right."

"I know. Let's go."

As a rule, Nezumi liked silence when he was concentrating on something; mindless chatter had never focused his mind on the task at hand. Silence was, naturally, hard to come by on a pirate ship, and it didn't seem any more common on a desert island either.

"What are we looking for?" Shion asked, "Berries? Fruit? Mushrooms? You look like you know what you're doing. Have you done this before? How often do you get shipwrecked? Is it a normal thing for pirates? I heard that some pirate ships leave new recruits on an island for a month as an initiation process, did they do that to you? It always sounded a bit pointless to me. What would the ship do for a month? They wouldn't be able to sail very far in that time, especially seeing as they'd have to come back afterwards as well. But I suppose I don't really know all that –"

"No," Nezumi interrupted. "You don't know anything. At all. About anything. So do me a favour: shut _up_!"

Shion stammered for a moment, then did as he was told.

Finally, after what seemed like hours trudging along in silence, Nezumi spied a bush with berries hanging off it in fat, juicy bunches. Salivating, he reached out to grab a handful and was startled when Shion slapped his hand away.

"Don't! They're poisonous!" he said.

Nezumi glowered at him. "Shut up, what would you know?" He made to grab a bushel again, and once more Shion stopped him.

"Look at it! That's Lantana!"

"Bless you."

"It's very poisonous! It could kill you." Shion's eyes were desperately serious. "Nezumi, you have to believe me, I've seen this in a book. Lantana, every part of the plant is fatally poisonous. It's common in tropical areas. Can cause dermatitis in some people."

Nezumi squinted. "Okay, now you're just making words up! I'm eating these fucking berries, I'm hungry!" He lunged for the flowery bush.

"No!" Shion cried, tackling him to the ground. They landed with a painful thud, and with Shion's inept flailing as he tried to right his bearings, it didn't take Nezumi very long at all to flip them over and pin Shion's hands above his head and immobilise his legs.

Surprised at the sudden switch in positions, Shion blinked. "You did it again," he said.

"Did what?"

"That thing, where you somehow manage to entirely immobilise me with just your hands and legs. It's fascinating."

Nezumi stared at him. "You belong in a freakshow, boy, and I ain't joking around."

"Eat those berries and you'll belong in a grave."

Nezumi rolled his eyes. "Don't be stupid."

"No, don't _you_ be stupid! I am _telling_ you, those berries will kill you, and then I'll have to dig you a grave! Who'd be the stupider of us both then? They don't even look that tasty!"

Actually, the longer Nezumi thought about it, the less appetising the berries looked. They were dark and dry-looking. And if Shion was right about the poison...

"Oh, have it your way." He rolled off the boy and stood up, dusting off his trousers. "But you'd better find me something else."

Shion sat up and nodded solemnly. "I promise I will."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," Nezumi muttered.

To his astonishment, however, Shion made good on his word. By midday, they had armfuls of fruit and edible flowers, and had also found a small stream that was clear and delicious.

"Tomorrow we should make sharp sticks and go fishing," Shion said. "Look for shellfish too."

"You should never talk about tomorrow, there's no guarantee that it'll ever come. We'll make fishing equipment today."

Sharpening a stick with only a slightly blunted jackknife was a lot more difficult than it seemed, and by the time they rolled back into their hollow, both Nezumi and Shion had more splinters and cuts than they could count.

"If any of these get infected, I'll strangle you," Nezumi muttered, exhausted.

He could hear Shion's smile at his words. "Bathe them in sea water if you're so worried," the boy retorted.

Nezumi debated it, then shook his head. "In the mornin'," he muttered, rolling over. He was face to face with Shion now, and could see the boys eyes glittering in the darkness.

"Nezumi?" Shion whispered softly, after a moment of quiet.

"Mm?"

"I'm really glad you're here with me. I'd be dead otherwise."

"And I'd be dead if you weren't here too. That's what survival is. Keeping each other alive."

"Not yourself?"

"How can you save yourself when you can't save someone else? What's the point?"

"True."

Silence fell once more, and Nezumi drifted off into a dream.


	3. Chapter 3

For the next couple of days, Nezumi and Shion steadily built up their strength on a diet of berries, flowers, nuts and fish. Nezumi was surprised by how easy it was to sleep in the tiny cavern they'd found; it wasn't exactly comfortable, and he was used to having his own bed, but by the time night fell he was so exhausted from the day's labours that he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the sand.

It was on the fourth day on the island that Shion murmured while gazing into the distance, "We should build a beacon."

"What?" Nezumi hadn't heard him.

"We should build a beacon. That way, if we see any ships in the distance we can light it to attract them over here."

"How are we supposed to see ships if they pass in the middle of the night?" Nezumi asked, yawning and scratching his head. He'd only just woken up.

Shion shot him a funny look. "Nezumi, you worked on a ship. They have lamps on the front and back."

Nezumi blinked. "Oh yeah. Cap'n never let me near those, though. Said glass was too expensive or some shite."

Shion frowned. "Is glass expensive? All our windows are made of it so I just assumed it wasn't."

"Yes, Shion, but you live in a fucking palace, don't you?" Nezumi snapped, only somewhat bitterly.

Shion blinked. "It's not really a palace..."

"Near enough to me!"

"I suppose. Sorry." Shion shrugged his shoulders.

"Don't apologise, it makes me feel ill." Nezumi stood and stretched. "If you want to make a beacon so badly, then you can gather the wood. I'm going to catch breakfast." He went to fetch his fishing stick.

Breakfast turned out to be two fat fish, slightly iridescent on their sides. Nezumi silently bagged the larger one for himself and set them to roasting over the campfire. Not long before they were done, Shion stumbled out of the trees, carrying a huge armful of twigs.

Nezumi squinted at him. "Shion,, what the fuck do you think you're going to do with that pile of shit?" he called.

Shion looked at him in confusion. "Make a beacon...remember?"

Nezumi snorted with laughter, almost planting a hand among the hot coals as he lost his balance. "You can't make a beacon out of that! You need proper wood!"

Shion looked affronted. "Well I don't know what you expect me to do! There aren't very many felled logs around here, funnily enough!"

"What are you talking about, there's a whole dead tree on the other side of the island!"

"Well...yes, but I can't very well carry that by myself! And your tiny knife won't be much good either."

Nezumi flicked open his switchblade. "This tiny knife can do a lot of damage, I'll have you know. But not usually to trees. We'll make a plan after breakfast." He held a fish out to Shion. It was only after the other boy began to eat it that Nezumi realised he'd accidentally given him the big one. Slightly grumpy, he set about to eating his own.

Afterwards, Nezumi and Shion stood in the clearing, contemplating the decent-sized dead tree in front of them

"Dead wood's supposed to be lighter, right?" Shion asked. "We might be able to lift it."

Nezumi rolled his eyes. "It's a fucking tree, Shion, we're not just going to be able to pick it up and walk off."

Shion grimaced, knowing Nezumi was right. He frowned harder at the tree until inspiration struck. "Hey, Nezumi, do you reckon you'd be able to break off some of those straighter branches?"

Nezumi shrugged and tried, succeeding in kicking three of the branches off the trunk. "What do you want do do with these?" he asked.

Shion was still looking at the tree. "I was thinking that if we both lifted either end, we'd only be carrying half of the weight each. Then I thought that dragging it along the ground would also mean carrying fifty percent of the weight. And _then_ I had the idea that we could just roll it along on branches. That way we carry barely anything."

"That's brilliant," Nezumi said.

Shion beamed. "Really?"

"Yeah, really. Apart from one small thing. This clearing is surrounded by trees. How the fuck are we supposed to roll it through a wood?!"

Shion opened his mouth, then shut it again. "I suppose we'll have to drag it together, then," he said finally.

It took far too many long, sweaty hours than Nezumi would have liked to drag the dead tree to the place where the beacon was supposed to be built. By the end of the ordeal, Nezumi had so many splinters he didn't think he'd ever be able to hold his knife comfortably again. Then, as if to rub salt into his multiple wounds, Shion announced that they now had to _chop up_ the thing.

"Didn't you think that would be an important thing to say _before_ we lugged the fucking thing all the way over here?!" Nezumi screeched.

"Sorry," Shion said, "It never crossed my mind."

"Fucking _moron_!" Nezumi scoffed. "And how do you propose we chop it, huh? I don't see any axes lying around."

Shion was clueless.

"Oh, fuck it, I'll do it," Nezumi moaned. He drew his knife, grabbed the branches they'd broken off the tree to drag it and set to work making wedges, splitting the branches using his knife and hammering it home with a heavier branch. Once the wedges were made, he found a crack in the old, dry trunk and placed his knife in it, hammering a little before slotting the wedges into the opening. After that, it was only a matter of patience and hammering until the trunk split cleanly into two. Nezumi did the same again twice, and they were left with four moveable pieces of wood with which to make the beacon.

"That was amazing!" Shion enthused. Nezumi ignored him and shoved a piece of trunk into his arms.

"Help me build this piece of shit," he ordered.

It took a relatively short time to construct the pyre, but the sun was already setting by the time they had finished.

"Well," Nezumi said, glaring at the reddened sky, "that puts paid to fish for supper. Here's to fucking berries."

They slept like logs that night.

* * *

Waking up and stretching, it took Nezumi a few moments to realise he had far too much room in the cave. Crawling outside, he saw his bedmate poking at hot embers in the fire pit, busy roasting three fish on a spit.

"Did you catch those yourself?" Nezumi asked, mildly surprised.

"Yes," Shion replied. "I gutted them by myself too."

"How?" asked Nezumi, feeling for the only knife they had, which was in his boot. He found nothing and looked up in confusion to see Shion waving the blade at him and chuckling.

"You really sleep heavily," the boy teased.

Nezumi narrowed his eyes and stalked over to snatch the knife away. "Don't you know children shouldn't play with knives, _boy_?"

"Careful, or I might make you catch your own breakfast," Shion warned.

Nezumi rolled his eyes heavenwards. "You'd never do that, you pansy."

Shion's smile became less mischievous and more gentle. "No, I wouldn't."

Nezumi allowed himself to smile slightly and sat down next to the other boy. "Give us a fish, then."

That day, they went swimming for crustaceans. The rocks were teeming with tropical mussels, and the best ones were on the rocks farthest away from the beach. They waited for low tide and, both of them full of childish excitement and daring, gathered their baskets Nezumi had woven and made for the rocks. Collecting the ones higher up was a simple task, but those were few and far between, and soon Nezumi had had enough.

"It's too fucking hot!" he complained loudly. "I'm going to get the ones lower down!"

Shion looked concerned. "What? You can't! You might get washed out to sea!"

Nezumi sighed deeply and gripped Shion's shoulders firmly. "Shion," he said, "I have lived on a ship my entire life. I know how to escape currents and riptides. And I absolutely _hate_ being hot!" That said, he stripped off his clothes, leaving them in a pile at the bewildered Shion's feet, and jumped in.

The water felt amazing on his bare skin and he just revelled in it for a moment, letting the cool waves wash over his head and baptise him. He re-emerged and shook the salt water from his eyes, yelling at Shion to drop a basket onto the lower rocks. They collected mussels until both baskets were brimming and the tide had risen enough for Nezumi to scramble back up. He hefted his basket to Shion, who was waiting ready at the top, and clambered up promptly afterwards. He climbed into his clothes with difficulty, disliking the feeling of them sticking to his damp, salty skin, and helped Shion carry the baskets back to shore.

Looking at their bounty, Shion was the first to say, "We have too many of these."

"Nonsense," said Nezumi, though privately he agreed.

"We're never going to be able to eat all these while they're still fresh."

"Bitch, watch me."

It took hours and hours to prepare the mussels and by the end of it, they were both heavily regretting their choice of meal. Shion had a multitude of cuts on his hands from unwieldy trimming and Nezumi's fingers were aching. They rinsed the mussels with water from the stream and prepared to simmer them nicely in a pot of boiling water before they realised they did not have a pot.

"Fucking _hell_!" Nezumi yelled, kicking at the sand in frustration.

Shion, too, looked less than happy. "Maybe we could make a bowl out of wood?" he suggested.

"Oh yeah, Shion, a wooden pot over an open fire, that'll work just dandy!" Nezumi spat. "This has all been a fucking waste of time. Why are we so _stupid_?"

Shion shrugged helplessly. "We'll have to put them all back," he said.

Nezumi gaped at him, incredulous. "You're having a laugh."

"There's no point killing them for nothing!"

"Shion, I worked fucking hard for this meal. I'm going to get it if it kills me!"

Shion folded his arms. "Alright, then, how do you suppose we cook them?"

"I suggest we don't."

" _Raw seafood_?" Shion looked appalled.

"What? I hear they do it in the East all the time."

"Not with mussels!"

"They're fresh as balls, it'll be fine." Nezumi waved off the other boy's concerns.

"I think I'll pass," Shion said.

"Off you go foraging, then," Nezumi replied, selecting the best-looking mussels from the enormous pile they had collected.

Shion did so, and Nezumi soon picked out a meal's worth of mussels for his meal. He dumped the rest back onto the rocks, which were nearly submerged by that point.

Sitting down to eat, he was unimpressed with the bitter taste of the raw mussels. They had an unpleasant texture, too, but Nezumi was damned if he was going to waste a day's work. He'd eaten worse onboard the ship anyway.

Chewing diligently, Nezumi drifted off back to his old galley and crew mates. He didn't miss them, per se, but the bellow of the cap'n and the hearty laugh of the Mate would stay with him for a long time. Dimly, he remembered his days as Shion's caretaker, and wondered if his lordly parents had received the ransom letter, or if the messenger had been shipwrecked too.

Shion's return wrenched him out of his reverie.

"You're done already?" the boy asked, munching on a handful of berries. "They must have been good."

Nezumi nodded. "Delicious," he affirmed.

* * *

He'd expected to sleep like a log that night, but found himself unable to drift off. A storm was brewing, and the air was humid and muggy. No matter how much he tossed and turned, or how many items of clothing he threw out of the cavern in annoyed desperation, Nezumi could not get comfortable.

It appeared Shion was having the same problem. The shaft of moonlight coming in from the opening illuminated the boy's figure, hair sticking to his temples and shirt sticking to his back.

"Why have you still got that thing on?" Nezumi whispered, though there was no real reason to be quiet.

"Hm?" Shion mumbled.

Nezumi tugged on the back of Shion's shirt. "Why are you still wearing this? Aren't you sweltering?"

"'S not too bad," Shion said, rolling over to face him.

Nezumi raised an eyebrow. "Bullshit. C'mon, take it off, you'll never get to sleep otherwise."

Shion shook his head stubbornly. "Don't want to."

Nezumi sighed. "You being a blushing maiden, or do you not want to show off your scar?"

Shion's darkening face gave him away.

Another sigh. "Look, I've seen it before. It doesn't bother me. And I'll hazard a guess that shirt's bothering you a hell of a lot more than the scar will."

Shion frowned. "It's ugly," he grumbled.

Nezumi snorted. "I've seen scars ten times worse. Yours is practically exquisite in comparison."

Shion blinked, stunned. "Really?"

"Yeah, really. You shouldn't be shy. Scars are what makes you who you are."

"I thought I was what I was," Shion teased lightly.

Nezumi rolled his eyes. "Get on and take off that shirt," he said.

Sitting up as much as was possible in the tiny cavern, Shion did as he was told, unbuttoning and slipping the sweat-soaked shirt off his shoulders. When he lay back down, Nezumi saw his cheeks were dark in the dim light.

"Why the bashfulness?" he asked. "You haven't got anything that I haven't. Apart from this," he traced a finger over the ruddy scar, "and that's hardly something to be embarrassed about. All curled around your chest and neck like that...it's alluring; you could even say sexually so."

Shion only blushed further.

"Makes us normal people jealous, even," Nezumi continued. "I wouldn't mind –"

He broke off in complete shock as Shion kissed him. The press of the other boy's lips was desperate and hot, far too hot for the temperature and the humidity, and his sweaty arms grabbing at Nezumi's waist were even worse, the feel of them made him ill...

Nezumi shoved Shion away from him so hard he banged his head on the other side of the cavern.

"What the fuck?" he hissed, wiping his mouth in disgust. "What in the _fuck_ was that?!"

Shion was breathing heavily, nursing his bruised head and wiping at the pained tears smarting at his eyes. "Sorry, I just...all of a sudden...sorry."

"Why would you even do that?" Nezumi demanded. "Are you crazy?!"

Shion looked slightly injured. "No! No, I...I've actually been thinking about it for a while, and –"

" _What_?!" Nezumi was appalled. "Please tell me this is some kind of sick joke."

Shion took a sharp breath, his face crumpling. His tears were flowing again. "I wouldn't joke about this. Never. Nezumi, I really –"

"Do _not_ say anything else!" Nezumi interrupted. "I don't know if you've got sunstroke, or if you drank something fermented somewhere, but you definitely need to stop talking!"

"I haven't got sunstroke!" Shion protested. "I...I don't like girls."

Nezumi stared at him. "You're shitting me."

Shion just bit back a sob.

"What are you even saying? You've gone mad! You're a pervert?!"

"Don't say that..." Shion groaned.

"It's wrong! It's just fundamentally wrong, what the fuck?! Unnatural!"

"Stop it!" Shion shouted. "How can you say I'm wrong when I didn't even choose it? I didn't choose this, this is how I am!"

"Bullshit! People aren't born like...like _that_!"

"You think I'd choose this?!" Shion screamed. "You think I'd choose this life, falling in love with people like you who just call me _pervert_ and _abomination_? I could have got engaged to a pretty girl and had children and grandchildren and not got bundled onto some uncle's ship to learn _decency_!"

Nezumi's jaw dropped. While he was still trying to comprehend the fact that maybe Shion _wasn't_ a spoilt rich brat, let alone that he was a homosexual one, the boy scrambled out of the cavern and ran off into the blackness. He was gone before Nezumi could call him back.

Nezumi was about to go after him, but realised he had nothing to say that would make things even remotely. Shion was a deviant, there was no getting around it. And yet Nezumi couldn't help but feel a sick feeling in his stomach as he lay back down that hadn't been caused by Shion's clammy lips upon his.


	4. Chapter 4

When Nezumi woke, Shion wasn't there. Fighting through the nausea that tormented him even in a state of semi-sleep, Nezumi crawled out of the cave to look around. The sun was only just above the horizon, and the pale pink light showed him just enough to tell him that Shion was nowhere to be seen.

 _Shit_.

Nezumi couldn't help but worry. _What if he fell down in the dark and hurt himself? Is it possible he could have been washed out to sea?_

Nezumi bit his lip. There was no getting around it: he felt evil. He still knew that homosexuality was wrong, but maybe Shion had been telling the truth when he'd said it wasn't a matter of choice. Nezumi hadn't chosen to be a pirate, after all, but stealing and killing, even if he had been forced to (which hadn't quite been the case), were still sins.

Running a hand through his hair, Nezumi wondered if one _could_ choose whom they loved. He had never been in love himself. To be completely honest, he'd never even felt attraction to a woman before. He'd always been so busy with chores that the idea of sex had just never appealed to him.

Nezumi frowned. Was that normal?

He decided not to dwell on it.

* * *

By midday, to Nezumi's discomfort, Shion had still not reappeared. He cooked fish for two anyway.

A breeze sent hot, burning smoke straight into his face, making him cough and choke while his eyes stang and watered. He stepped away from the fire and blinked tears away, rubbing his smarting eyes. Looking up, he blinked some more, then nearly fell over.

On the horizon, though it was small and barely distinguishable, was a ship.

Nezumi stood gormlessly for a second before he sprang into action. It was the work of a few minutes to grab a torch from the fire and light the kindling inside the beacon. Within ten, the larger beams had caught fire.

Trusting that there was now only a small risk of the fire being extinguished, Nezumi ran to find Shion, thanking the heavens that the island was relatively small.

To his relief, he soon found the other boy in the clearing made by the dead tree from which they had fashioned the beacon. Nezumi was certain Shion knew he was there – his footsteps had been loud and hurried – but the boy made no move to turn around and look at him.

Wondering if he was asleep, Nezumi softly approached him. He was leant against a tree, his white hair filled with leaves and bits of twig. Nezumi reached out absent-mindedly to brush away the debris, but as soon as his hand touched Shion's head, the boy flinched away.

"Don't," he said, voice hoarse.

"Shion," Nezumi started.

"I said don't. I don't want to hear it."

"Shut up, there's a ship."

Finally, Shion looked at him. His eyes were swollen and painful. Nezumi winced.

"A ship?"

Nezumi rubbed the back of his neck. "I saw it out to sea. I've lit the beacon."

Shion looked up. Sure enough, a pillar of black smoke was billowing into the sky.

"It can take us back to England," Shion murmured almost inaudibly.

Nezumi nodded. "Yes. That's why I need you to come back with me. You can go home."

Shion looked at him emptily, then to Nezumi's shock shook his head.

"I don't want to."

"Shion, come on, this is taking it a bit too far! I...I don't hate you because of what happened. I was just shocked. I said some things I shouldn't have. I'm sorry."

Shion averted his eyes and turned his back again. "That's not why I don't want to go. I don't _want_ to go home. It's horrible. All those expectations...and the way my parents look at me...I _hate_ it!"

Nezumi bit his lip and debated, then sat down heavily next to the other boy. "Look. I don't particularly want to go to England either. I don't have any money, or anywhere to sleep. England ain't a good place to be if you've got nothing to your name. But we have to go. We can't live here forever."

Shion swallowed. "Then you go without me," he said.

Nezumi felt like he'd been slapped, like all the wind had been knocked out of him. "What? You must be joking!"

Shion shook his head. "I'm not going back, Nezumi."

Nezumi stared at him. "Not even for me?" he asked.

"Don't try to manipulate me with that. I know you don't care."

"I'm not manipulating you!" Nezumi cried, almost hitting the boy in frustration. "Shion, I might not want you like you want me, but I still care about you. I don't want to lose you, you arsehole!"

Shion looked at him then, and Nezumi prayed that the tears he felt smarting at his eyes weren't visible.

"Alright," the boy said finally, "I'll come with you."

Nezumi almost collapsed in relief.

The ship arrived at the island in the evening. They let down a small scouting boat and rowed to shore, Shion and Nezumi waiting for them by the blackened, smoking beacon.

The boat reached the beach, and a man whom Nezumi presumed to be the captain stepped out.

"Shipwrecked?" he bellowed in the unmistakable tone of someone accustomed to being in charge.

They nodded silently, knowing it was best to stay timid and subservient.

The captain walked over. "Names?"

"Nezumi."

"Shion."

"Shion?" The captain cried. "Boy, you're surely not the Duke of Westminster's son?!"

Shion blinked, unsure how to answer.

"It is!" the captain roared. "Boys!" he directed over his shoulder, "We've found the hostage aristocrat!"

Cheers erupted in the night.

The captain turned back to the boys with a steely look in his eye. He fixed Nezumi with a piercing glare. "That means you must be one of the pirate scum who took him, huh? It's been all over the newspapers, this."

Nezumi opened his mouth to protest, deny everything, but was cut off by a hard punch to the mouth. He fell heavily to the sandy floor, Shion's screaming ringing in his ears.

Obviously eager for a fight, the rest of the small boat had rushed over too. One of them had iron-tipped boots, as Nezumi discovered when they smashed into his ribs. All he could do was curl up and wait for it to be over – and soon it was, when a heavy kick to the head sent everything seeping into blackness.

He woke in what looked like a darkened hold. He was unbound, but Nezumi had the unmistakable feeling that he was most definitely a prisoner.

There was someone banging on the heavy wooden door, probably what had roused him in the first place.

"Nezumi?" he heard whispered. It was Shion.

Rubbing his head, Nezumi sat up. "What?"

The banging stopped. "Are you alright?"

"Aye. Jus' a bit of a headache. What about you?"

"Well of course _I'm_ fine, they're treating me like royalty! It was a miracle the captain let me out of his sight long enough for me to sneak away. Apparently I'm worth a thousand pounds."

Nezumi's eyes widened. "Shit, a thousand?"

"It seems my father has finally taken leave of his senses."

"Obviously. Do you know where we're headed?" Nezumi asked.

"England," came the answer.

"Straight?"

"Yes."

"How long will it take?"

"About two weeks."

Nezumi drew in a long breath and sighed.

"...Nezumi?" Shion called again.

"Aye?"

Shion's voice was so quiet Nezumi had to strain to hear it. "They're going to hang you, aren't they?"

"Probably."

He heard a sniffle. "I...I don't want –"

"Yeah, well, neither do I," Nezumi said exasperatedly. "But there's nothing either of us can do about it, now is there?"

"I'll talk to my father, make him understand..."

Nezumi shook his head, though Shion couldn't see. "Shion, your father can't even understand that you like men."

"Neither can you," came the sulky reply.

Nezumi rolled his eyes. "I suppose not. But I'm trying. And I'm sorry for what I said before." It sounded too much like a goodbye, even to his own ears.

"I know. You told me."

"Aye."

He heard soft footsteps walking away.

* * *

The next time he heard from Shion was the day before they were due to reach England. It was early, too early, and Nezumi was less than ecstatic to be wrenched from sleep. Needs must, he supposed.

"Nezumi? Nezumi?" Shion was calling, tapping at the door.

Nezumi yawned. "Hm...what?"

"I managed to sneak away again," Shion told him, as if it wasn't obvious.

"Why? What's the point?" Nezumi asked, though he knew he'd get a ridiculous answer.

Sure enough, Shion said, "I wanted to hear your voice."

Nezumi had to stifle a snort. "Mm. Well. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

There was a short silence.

"Nezumi?"

"Aye?"

"I just wanted to tell you...you wouldn't let me before." Shion took a deep breath, and Nezumi felt dread set in. "I love you." His voice cracked.

Nezumi winced. "I know," he murmured. "Goodbye, Shion."

* * *

A week later, and it was the night before Neuzmi's hanging. He couldn't sleep.

There was a scrabbling at the window.

"Nezumi?" a familiar voice called.

Nezumi sprang to his feet. "What in the bloody _fuck_ –?!"

Shion's dirty face appeared at the window. "I'm here to get you out." He was grinning like a madman.

Nezumi stared in utter shock as Shion filed away the bars, leaving a gap just wide enough for the underfed boy to wriggle through. Thankfully, he was on the ground floor.

His feet hit the soil, and Nezumi looked up at Shion, disbelief and endless questions swimming through his mind. Shion saw them, even in the dark.

"I ran away," he explained. "I was right; it was just the same as before. They were still ashamed of me, still wanted me only for my ability to give them an heir." He shook his head. "I'm done with it, Nezumi. The change of guards will be here in a minute. Let's go."

Nezumi nodded, silently. He could see it now: they would run to the nearest harbour and join the first crew they met. Sail the seven seas together, come what may.

Nezumi smiled. He supposed it could be worse.


End file.
